


Some Notes on the Peculiar Methods of Organic Replication

by Xecotcovach



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Cats doing it, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-02 03:41:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16297484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xecotcovach/pseuds/Xecotcovach
Summary: Things on Earth reproduce. Peridot observes. Not so much erotic smut as a space gremlin inevitably encountering that which makes the occupants of this doomed rock persist in continuing to exist. Takes place around the Cluster Arc, and then some. Not really sexy vignettes about Peridot finding sexy things.





	Some Notes on the Peculiar Methods of Organic Replication

**Author's Note:**

> Cutting my public writing teeth again. Very adult content will be involved here. Warnings will be included for anything particularly gnarly. 
> 
> I like green, hyperanalytical gremlins, I guess.

Organic life was ... weird.  An inelegant but most succinct conclusion Peridot Facet-2F5L Cut-5XG could come to and ease herself with. 

For instance, she had the displeasure of trying to deal with some small organic Things emanating some horrendous noise near the “barn” structure she has taken up station at.  She has been on this gem-forsaken rock long enough to come to the reasonable hypothesis that this noise indicated distress, and a sense of... curiosity (yes, that was it) drove her to it.  That, and it was wretched.  And constant.  And despite some of the unpleasantries of her prior assignments, this was affecting her concentration on her analyses of the optimal “Camp Pining Hearts” configurations she has been occupying herself in between her work with not being shattered into oblivion by the experimental abomination dormant below. 

And so, Peridot, Facet-2F5L Cut-5XG, was roaming around the dark during this rock’s “night” phase, looking for that noise.  With a rhythmatic pulverizer in hand.  The yowling was not too far away. Shapes moved in the grass, and Peridot, thankful for her Gem’s placement, only had to illuminate it with just looking in its direction. 

The shapes became round, hunched forms, and they froze.  Points of shining spheres glinted and flashed, transfixed on her, and Peridot wondered if these little Earthian monsters could perceive her as well as she was them.  Two of the little organic bodies were clustered together, one on top of the other, and hardly gave her a second glance.  Another one of the Things disappeared, exploding noisily into the night with a startling speed that had Peridot jumping.

The remaining Thing on top of another Thing shuffled.  Peridot could see their single balancing spinal extensions curved behind them and that they were of the quadrupedal limb configuration typical of the larger native organics.  Their cranial sections had two pointed flaps suggestive of where their audio-perception holes were and possessed a series of curious, tiny filaments protruding from what had to have been near their sustenance-intake cavities.  The top Thing had a striped pelage, the bottom with erratic blotches. 

Then the lower Thing _screamed_.  And screamed.  Peridot, gripping her heavy tool tight, could see the tiny oral needle “teeth” of the little monster and then flash of movement as it lashed at its accomplice with a small, rounded gravity connector.  The accomplice disappeared as quickly the first, and the remaining Thing slunk into the grass after.  Its pair of shining vision spheres blazed briefly in Peridot’s direction before it, too, was gone.

That was it.  Peridot remained for some time to be sure before she crept warily back to the barn to resume more pressing, important things.  Like Camp Pining Hearts. 

Soon after settling down on the “couch,” a dusty sitting contraption she had been growing accustomed to utilizing in front of the primitive image-projection apparatus, to the Gem’s chagrin, the yowling started up again. 

This was irritating.  Another approach was necessary.  A modified approach.

Peridot, taking up the pulverizer and her own Gem’s light bright, altered that approach with charging at the... the Prickly Yowlers.  While screaming. 

Bursting from the threshold of the barn, she tripped. 

Wretched lack of limb enhancers!  Curse her own limbs of insufficient length!  Curse those Yowlers!   _Curse everything!_  

Grumbling the most vulgar things she could relish getting away with now that she was far beyond the ears of her superiors (she hoped), Peridot was back on her own gravity connectors, pulverizer at the ready, and charging into the grass. Screaming.  Maybe even the Diamonds could hear her. 

She tripped again.  Not even in a couple strides...

Oh!  It had to have been the pulverizer!  Forget the pulverizer!  Peridot abandoned it before barreling at the Yowlers on all fours, _Diamonds_ _damn it all!_

Peridot could hear some of the returned Yowlers scurrying away at her approach.   She did not see the hunched pair in the grass patch in front of her. 

Yowlers had small, sharp claws, Peridot found out.  They were too fast with too many claws.  Even against her projected photonic epidermal layer, they hurt.  The Yowlers screamed as Peridot tripped into them, and in a flurry of those claws, Peridot was soon alone again, flat on her face and stinging terribly. 

But, they were gone. 

Peridot trudged back to the barn, the Earth air burning where her projection was superficially damaged.  She had been sinking deeply into her couch when she remembered that she left her rhythmatic pulverizer outside. 

She groaned. She’d go back for it later, even if its material would hold up poorly in the oxidizing Earth environment. She just... couldn’t leave it out there too long. Studies of materials and the effects of the Earth atmosphere on them were needed. If this rock were to continue to exist, anyway.  

The weary Peridot fished for the primitive projection tube’s distance control apparatus. Camp Pining Hearts, now. 

The Diamond-blessed Introduction sequence was marred as the yowling started up again. 

Peridot was twitching. 

An Anti-Yowler operation was needed. Yowler obliteration. _Yowler **annihilation**_.

She was against an unknown, wild force determined to do whatever it was they were doing, and she was going to end it.  A more sensible approach called for a series of observations and analyses in why Yowlers... _were Yowlers_ , but Peridot did not have time for that.  She was finished with these nuisance, _unnecessary,_ organic _abominations_. 

Peridot had ideas.  She was rummaging through the predictably primitive human refuse stored here, letting her ire shine off some of the worse facets of her Gem.  Assembling something against a mouthy _pearl_ who thought herself too big for her assigned station was one thing, making the ambiguous objectives of a bunch of persistent Yowlers impossible to accomplish was another...

What did Yowlers not like?  Peridot entertained herself as she worked with the possible, _very uncomfortable_ experiments she could assemble and perform to optimize such.  For now, a safe conclusion was nothing liked having things thrown at them.  There were plenty of adequate things of sufficient size that could be expelled at the proper velocity to never consider accomplishing those objectives in her vicinity again. 

With the sounds of the Yowlers to... _angrily_ stoke her creative fires, Peridot was soon wheeling her No-Yowler Velocity Projectile Apparatus outside.  The Earth was creeping into its “morning” phase, its single, proximate star burning the horizon red. 

By then, the Yowlers had stopped.  Maybe they had known. Maybe Peridot should’ve asked them their motives, if their yowling language was reserved only for that ritual.  For now, Peridot would have to wait.

The larger, aerial organictoids that flitted so easily through the dangerously oxidizing Earth atmosphere on only two limbs engineered for the feat (“birds,” The Steven had called them) were more tolerable when it came to their own erratic noises.  Peridot found herself sinking once again into the couch to absorb herself into her analyses undisturbed. 

For awhile. 

It was the end of the “evening” phase, where the Earth’s adjacent star had fallen below the other side of that sorry rock’s horizon, when the scuffling, then yowling began.  Peridot has been in the middle of a refinement phase of her latest performance optimization of the Three-Legged Run when she could not take it anymore.  She could work on an end with the persistent cause in proximity, but not this.  She pressed aside a longing for her touch screens; the tangible properties of these “paper” data logs lent itself poorly to organization and retrieval. 

Peridot stormed into the night.  It would be over soon.  She would demonstrate mercy and give the Yowlers a chance to negotiate a surrender before the Apparatus would be turned on and negotiate the terms on their behalf.  The Steven would appreciate her progress, flawed as the misbegotten hybrid’s ideals and its penchant for ... expulsion were. 

She soon found the blazing vision spheres of the Yowlers.  They were looking at her. Good. 

“Hey! Pathetic, lowly Earth residents of intolerable noise!” Peridot swelled with pride; she was such a good negotiator.  “I am here to discuss a term of surrender with your occupation of my property, or you face unpleasant consequences that may or may not result in your involuntary annihilation!  How do you plead?”

The Yowlers continued to stare, until one looked down and licked its gravity connector.  What did that mean?  Another was approaching one low to the ground, approximating the same shuffle that cumulated into the disturbing cacophony as before.

Peridot crossed her arms.

“I take it you’re not willing to negotiate any terms?  Then so be it.”

There was no regret when the Apparatus was switched on, only a sense of pride when she had managed to approximate her technical knowhow to a functioning amalgamation with a working sensory audio and optical tracking system that could hone in on any irritating Yowler and pelt them senseless with anything she could throw in its convenient feeding chamber. 

* * * 

“Peridot,” The Steven asked Peridot, Facet-2F5L Cut-5XG, one day.  “Why is there garbage in the yard?”

She was under the Cluster drill, repurposing and rerouting some of the wiring (such an older, inefficient model, _ugh!_ ).  She only hoped that awkward hybrid mess could hear her grin. 

“Negotiations.”

“With?”

“Organic lifeforms impervious to reason.”

“Um, who?”

“As I’ve said: organic lifeforms hopelessly impervious to my superior capabilities of merciful negotiating.”

The Steven did not press her further. It must have been because she was right. As usual. 

 

FIN 


End file.
